There Are No Llamas Here

I'm not sure that I've actually clarified that yet- in spite of my blog address, the only llama that I have met in Peru is one that hangs out in the plaza in Huaraz wearing sunglasses and a hat. And I haven't even really met that llama, since you have to pay to take a picture with him. There are LOTS of donkeys, though, and dogs, sheep, and pigs. The donkeys make horrible noises, the dogs have fleas, the sheep hang out in the middle of the road and always cause delays, and the pigs bust through the front door a dozen times a day and proceed to trash the kitchen looking for food. I guess I'm not much of an animal person here. But I have pretty much mastered the art of yelling at animals in Quechua. Mostly you just say their names. To make a donkey get out of your way, for example, you just say "ashnu," kind of like sneezing, and it will immediately start to move. Not too hard. Getting the pigs out of the house is a little more complicated- you yell "kuchi," but it is much more effective if you give them a kick in the tail at the same time. I can't wait to eat porkchops. And yes, swine flu has arrived in Peru which makes it even more fun to see their dirty little noses rummaging through the breakfast dishes.

I have had quite the series of adventures the past two months. Diana came to visit in April, bringing a precious block of cheese and a box of Lucky Charms. In exchange I offered her the unique opportunity to sit on a sheep and to swim in a glacial lake. I think I got the better deal.

Me, Diana, some huaino singer lady, and Erica at Campo Santo, the site of a 1970 landslide that buried the town of Old Yungay

A few weeks later I took my first hike up into the mountains to the spectacular Lake 69 (no joke, that's its name) with the other volunteers, and last weekend a group of us went on an overnight trail clean with the tourist association with which Erica and I work. We covered about 40km in two days, climbing from 3,000m to 4,300m altitude and then back down. To say that I was exhausted doesn't even begin to do it justice, but it was well worth the trek.

The volunteers on our way back from Lake 69

The next day, Erica and I led our first workshop on garbage management and recycling, which went surprisingly well. We were anticipating the worst- that after all the work that went into brining the garbage off of the trail, someone would end up burning it before we could get our hands on it- and I was about ready to sleep on top of the garbage bags to make sure that didn't happen. But against all odds, we were able to present our chat on the day for which it was scheduled the garbage was still there, and we got three dozen men to sort out the recycling and throw the rest into a mini landfill.

Some arrieros (donkey drivers) with their recycling

It is a small step towards our bigger goals, but if I have learned anything in the Peace Corps, it is to appreciate ever step that takes you in the right direction, no matter how small.

Hotel Hangover

I had a nice run of work-related travel, which was definitely more like vacation, starting with Quechua training, then a trip to Lima, and finally a nice stay on the beach to cap it all off. After three weeks of hot showers, sunshine, and speaking English, heading back to site was like jumping into a cold lake- I was totally dreading the return to Quechua, mud, rain, bucket baths, and isolation. And the first days back were tough, especially going home to find all my belongings, including my pillows, covered in mold. But just like jumping into that lake, after the initial shock you realize the water isn't so bad after all. It's nice to be back in my own bed, even if it does smell like flea spray. And as slow as life in the campo can feel, it is never boring. There is no shortage of random craziness to keep life interesting. Like Monday, when the adobe wall of our house fell on my sister. She's OK- just a sprained foot and a broken backpack- but a bed-ridden 3-year-old is actually more irritating than one who can follow you around. I try to be patient with her endless stream of wailing demands, though, since I feel a bit responsible for her injury. After all, I was closest to her when the wall collapsed, and I might have been able to grab her if my self-preservation instinct hadn't kicked in before my maternal one. I was already half-way across the patio before I thought to try to save her. Oops. So much for playing the hero.

At Lake Llanganuco, in Ancash, with Tyler and Shannon

Trying to get started with some real work has also provided plenty of opportunity for me to reflect on how absurd my life is these days, although I am making some progress. I have agreed with the new school director (the third one in three months) to work with the Environmental Ed. teacher, and reluctantly agreed to work with the English teacher as well. I was going to start the very next day, but the teacher didn't show up. I played volleyball and football with all the other teachers instead, in the middle of the school day, while the kids were supposed to be "working independently" (which is as ineffective in Peru as in any other country). But it was fun, and I definitely earned my place on the football team. Volleyball is pending. I need to work on a more consistent serve.

A trip to the municipality to talk to the mayor was also more exciting than expected- not only did Erica and I get a lot of good information, which almost never happens, but we also got surprised by a radio show host who wanted to interview us about the Peace Corps. The mayor didn't ever show up, but it was still an above-average day for being productive. So things are looking pretty good in Tzactza right now, and with a little help from my friend Hershey's (thanks dbrad) I am recovering well from my hotel hangover.

Getting ready for a cold jump into Lake Llanganuco, an Ancash PCV tradition

A taste of normality

The other day I went to the US for coffee. Then I walked back out onto the street into Peru again. This magical space warp is commonly known as Starbucks. And I actually went more than once. More like three times in three days during a shocking dip into urban life last week. I made my first trip back to Lima after three months in the mountains, and although I absolutely love the easy-going Andean lifestyle, Lima was a refreshing return to "normal" life.

In the short but busy trip, I started each morning with a grande coffee from Starbucks, which feels exactly like a US Starbucks except that the menu is in Spanish. Then I was off to the Peace Corps office for a 9 to 5 day of meetings. I am working with the Women in Development / Gender and Development (WID/GAD) committee, which is a 5 member team in charge of developing gender-related training programs and resources for Peace Corps staff and volunteers. It is a relatively new committee, and we spent almost two full days working on mission statements and developing a set of objectives to direct future WID/GAD activities in Peru. It was a lot of nitty-gritty work, and by the end of the three days, I was tired, a bit frantic, and totally strung out on coffee. In other words, the most normal I have felt in months. I also got to meet a bunch of new volunteers, eat good food, and get updated on all the Peru gossip. All in all, a very successful first business trip.

Now I am back in Huaraz, but things haven't slowed down much. I catch another night bus tomorrow to go to reconnect in Pacasmayo, where all the Peru 12ers will be together for the first time since November. It's going to be a crazy time on the coast, mixed with official business of course. Sorry to all of you who are still battling the last days of winter, but I'm off to the beach!

A few life observations:

1. I don't understand Carnaval. It is a seemingly endless celebration that starts in January and lasts through the beginning of March, and for the entire stretch you have to watch out for kids with squirt guns, water balloons, and buckets. I've tried several techniques including intimidation (yelling and running directly at the offenders), the classic Peruvian finger shake that means 'no way,' and even pleading (por favor, soy una pobre gringa), all with very little success. And whatever you do, DON'T sit by an open window in a car or bus, because you will get drenched. And then sometimes the woman next to you will decide to change her entire outfit right there in the back seat of the car where you are squeezed in with 5 other people.

Carnaval is also a festival that involves lots of drunk men trying to raise a full tree in the plaza using ropes and ladders. Then more drunk men with axes cut it down. Highly entertaining, but watch from a safe distance.

2. Crayons are God's gift to teachers everywhere. I made it through 6 weeks of English classes which included students aged 5 through 15, a smattering of baby brothers and sisters, several regular dogs, and even a chicken on one occasion. And who would have guessed it, but the 15-year-old boys love coloring just as much as the 3-year-old.


3. I am currently living every 7-year-old child's dream: I get to eat french fries for dinner all the time!! Just french fries, sometimes with white rice. Whenever I am wishing I could have just a little something green on my plate, I remind myself that as a kid I would have been in heaven.

4. I always planned to spend my golden birthday somewhere really cool. As a first-grader, I was thinking something more like Hawaii, but if you had told me that my 23rd birthday would involve an adobe hut and a pot of chocolate pudding, I think I would have liked that.

The rainy season has set in here in Sacsa, and although it has been abnormally dry according to my neighbors, we still get plenty of damp and chill. Pretty much every day, the clouds come creeping down the mountains and settle into town, shutting out the spectacular scenery and sometimes even the house across the street. The clothes don't dry, all my pants are spattered with muck, and there isn't much to do in the rain besides sit in my room. There is an undeniable coziness, however, to bundling up with a cup of tea at the kitchen table and watching bits of cloud wander through the patio.

The town plaza on a sunny day

On the homefront, the bathroom is finally progressing, my siblings often remind me after breakfast that we have to brush our teeth, and I have a brand new cement floor! My host family is always a trip, with the three kids behaving just like like siblings anywhere, picking on each other, fighting over the small spoon and the seat near the fire (mom, read: the window seat and the piggy glass), and playing together like angels when they think no one is looking. Those are the things that make me feel most at home- the 14-year-old boys stealing hats and shawls from the teenage girls (seany, I think of you every time), a bunch of farmers giving the NGO representative bunny ears in our group photo. And the other night I followed a tremendous ruckus to its source and found my entire family in a monkey pile on the bed, my siblings piled on top of my dad and my host mom on top of everyone. Of course, like all family fun, it ended with someone crying.

My front door

My daily activities have expanded a bit. I have been attending quite a few community meetings, gathering information, and working on lesson plans for English classes, which I am now teaching twice a week. My first class started slowly, almost an hour late, with only eight kids, but more kept showing up. At the end of the second class, there were 24 kids, two babies, and a dog, with four more kids peering in the windows. I had to kick everyone out at lunch time because everyone wanted to stay and color more.

The view down my street on a cloudy evening

My new favorite activity, though, or call it an obsession, is looking for cactus fruits called tunas. Erica and I conquered our first cactus together and harvested five fruits. Three had worms. But we thoroughly enjoyed the other two. Somehow that, more than anything, made me feel accomplished.

Erica working on picking a tuna, trying not to get covered in spines

Enjoy!

Happy Holidays!

Happy New Year!! Everyone have their yellow underwear on for good luck? Or is that just a Peruvian thing? The markets switched from red and green garlands to a sea of yellow ribbons, necklaces, glasses, and of course, yellow underwear of every imaginable variety and level of indecency. I settled for a moderate pair, no lace. Hope they bring me luck this year. I certainly am going to need it.

Although life in site has been pretty smooth so far, the first month in Sacsa has still been a real challenge. There is a lot to get adjusted to, most of all the incredibly slow pace of life. The first three months or so are dedicated to getting to know the community, rather than starting any projects, which means I spend a lot of time wandering around aimlessly or sitting on a log outside my house reading a book. This strategy actually works pretty well for starting conversations with the neighbors, since everyone is very curious about the fact that I actually read for FUN. People always ask if I am working, and since I started reading "The Ground Beneath Her Feet," which is thick and hard-covered, several people have asked if they could borrow my Bible.

Christmas was also an interesting experience. There were a few parties in town, but mostly on the days between Christmas and New Year's. On Christmas itself there was a bit of dancing (and a lot of drinking) at the school, and I got my first chance to embarrass myself dancing in front of half the town. Then we ate some paneton, which is like an oversized, super dry muffin studded with red and green candied fruit and raisins. Not my favorite holiday treat, and I have eaten it either for breakfast or dinner or both every day for the past two weeks. Reason #1 I am glad the holidays are over. I am looking forward to moving into my second month in Sacsa without the pressure of the holidays hanging over my head, and hopefully getting started with some little projects to keep me busy. My current initiative involves encouraging my little sisters to brush their teeth. Starting small.

Happy holidays to everyone!

Welcome to Sacsa

It has been a while, and so much has happened in the past three weeks. All 47 volunteers in my training group swore in as PC volunteers on November 28th, and from there we all went our separate ways. I moved up to Ancash with 8 other volunteers from Peru 12, and we did all our pre-site shopping in the capital city of Huaraz, buying mattresses, sheets, and other necessities. Then on December 2nd, Erica and I hired a taxi for the three hour journey to our sites. I can only imagine what people must have thought about the two strange white girls driving around with two mattresses on top of a stationwagon. But we made it, and have managed to settle into our respective homes in towns about 20 minutes apart from each other.

So about life in Sacsa- things are pretty calm in a town of perhaps 500 people, and my main responsibilities right now involve smiling and saying "buenos dias" to everyone and trying to remember names and faces. I spend a lot of time hanging out at the kitchen table, which is in an open-air patio in my adobe house, talking to my host parents and my two little host sisters, who are 5 and 3 and love to chat. They have been a big help in introducing me to the kids in town, and now I can't even walk out the front door without some kid yelling my name from down the street. I also read in the plaza a lot, just trying to get myself out there. If there's one thing I have learned in the past two weeks, it is that you never know what will happen once you set foot outside. On Thursday, for example, I took the ten minute hike out to the hilltop where I get cell phone reception, thinking I would just make a quick call and then walk to Erica's house for a relaxing evening with her host family. Instead, I walked past the school and ended up getting pulled into the primary school's graduation party and sitting with a family I had never met and then eating soup and guinea pig at a table with the 12-yr-old graduates in front of the entire gathering. I am really bad at eating guinea pig. There is definitely an art to it that I have NOT mastered. Something to work on in order to fit in better, I guess.

My first three months in site will be dedicated to these sorts of awkward activities- meeting the important figures in town, starting to develop relationships with the various organizations with which I hope to work, and just figuring out how to survive in general. So far, so good. The people of Sacsa have been so friendly (an older woman approached me in the plaza to give me cookies and I could have cried I felt so welcomed) and the landscape is absolutely stunning. On a clear day, I can see the tips of six snow-capped mountains from my cell phone rock.

Me talking on the phone with the nevados in the background.
And with my neighbor, Erica, taking advantage of the cell reception.

I will also need to start learning Quechua, since most of the adults in my town converse with one another in the Andean tongue, and I would like to know exactly what people are saying about me when they converse with each other in Quechua, glancing at me and throwing in key spanish phrases like "cuerpo de paz" and "estados unidos." But one step at a time.